Writing: Reading Out Loud

For best results please read this post out loud.

As an IT guy who spends my whole day in front of a keyboard, as a writer who then goes home and spends more hours at that same keyboard writing and editing, as someone who always tries to carry a notepad and a pen with me—or at least in my car, as someone who keeps a dream journal and pen next to my bed to capture my first thoughts by hand when awakening, as a reader and favorer of paper books with shelves and stacks of them cluttering up my house, it’s easy for me to always think of writing as the written word.

A first attempt to convey ideas by written symbols or images may have been with the earliest cave paintings (approx. 30,000 years ago) but many sources would point to the Sumerians and then Egyptians with their first efforts putting down symbols indicating individual whole words or ideas about 5,000 or so years ago. Fast forward to the invention of the first printing press (1400AD) and then into our modern world with our copying machines, personal computers and the Internet—for anyone living today written language is everywhere, easily accessible and often taken for granted.

But before language was ever written down, it was first spoken. The ability to use language--spoken word--is one of the uniquely human abilities that separate our brains (cerebrums) from that of other animals. According to some sources whatever variety of human beings were walking around on the planet a million years ago were already speaking to one another.

For the past many weeks I’ve been in a creative writing poetry class where frequently our teacher, individual students or the whole class will read/recite poems out loud. It’s interesting to me that a poem that I read silently to myself from our assigned book that didn’t make much of an impression on me—when read out loud suddenly works—certain words, phrases, maybe even the entire poem taking on new interest and meaning when put to a human voice.

My class also had the benefits of having some wonderful visiting authors who read their work to us. The difference of the emotional tone that can be heard when listening to an author read his/her work out loud, the words they choose to emphasize, the places they choose to pause, sometimes blew me away.

So where am I going with all this? The next time you read something, I encourage you to read it out loud, listen to what is on the page or screen. It may bring greater understanding to the material. But, especially if you’re a writer, and you’re editing your own work, I think it’s especially important for you to try to read your own work out loud as another way to improve your editing. (And believe me I am working to do more of this with my own writing and editing.)

When we read to ourselves our eyes tend to ignore/skip over problems that may be there—but when we read out loud, awkward phrases, skipped and/or incorrect words stand out. Sections of dialogue in prose, I think, are great candidates to evaluate aloud. As you read does it sound natural or not? Your ear will know.

This last week I had the cool experience of attending a reading by poet, Jamaal May. I really enjoyed his book Hum and the emotion he put into his live reading (performance, I should say—he memorizes most of his poems and recites them) was phenomenal. Based on this experience I have spent some time recently seeking out more poems to listen to by various slam/performance poets. I’ve included a few links below that I think illustrate how powerful writing can be when spoken (in case you haven’t already found these artists on your own).

Thanks for reading—out loud.

~Mark

@manOwords

Sky Now Black With Birds by Jamaal May

I Do Have a Seam by Jamaal May

F*ck I look like by Kai Davis (not safe for work- language)

Boyfriend Interview by Haley Mosley

Done by summer's end...?

I started my second attempt at a novel back in January.

Well, that's not totally true. I wrote the first chapter of what would become my second attempt at novel a year or so ago.

Wait... no.

Farther back, I guess I first tried to make it a short story, maybe two years ago, but it was too big and clunky and just wouldn't fit. It burst at the short story's seams. It wouldn't fit and yet still say all the things I wanted it to say.

Which was, to say the least, a bit frustrating and problematic... at least, at first.

So I took the short story and I churned out a first chapter, just to try it out and see if it could walk around a bit. I tested it out, first among the venerable bastards of the Scribblerati and then in David Oppegaard's nascent Loft class.

It seemed to do all right. It could walk. In fact, it did better than all right. It didn't just walk, it ran. I'm pretty sure I've talked about this project on here before. At the very least I talked about what the book was generally concerned with, right?

Right.

So anyway, in January--new year, starting out fresh and all that--I sat down and started working on it in earnest. Tentatively working-titled as Monsters, I wanted to finish it by summer's end. It wasn't easy. Well, ok, sometimes it was easy. Sometimes the prose flowed like a mighty river. Sometimes the hum of the screen was so loud while I was staring at a blank page, it just about drove me insane. But now, 13 chapters in and on the other side of a short but wicked bout of writer's block, now 68,000 odd words along, I figure there's only four chapters and just under a month left.

For those of you keeping score, that's a chapter a week.

I think I can do it. I do. I think I can do it and here's why. Stepping into the project, I only had one goal: Done by summer's end. But I should clarify, I mean first draft done. It doesn't have to be pretty. It doesn't have to be good. It doesn't even have to be all that coherent. It just has to be done.

First draft done.

By summer's end.

One chapter a week.

Yeesch. I'm pretty sure I can do it.

Hopefully...

But here's the other trick... You ready for this? It doesn't matter if I get done by summer's end. See that? It doesn't matter. It's just an arbitrary goal. It's one I think I'll pull off, or at least, near enough to make no difference, but in the end, whether I make it or not...

No big whoop. The only thing that matters is finishing.

First draft done.

Hooray!



Then, my plan is to set the humped and wretched beast aside for a few weeks, probably the whole of September, and then take it and the responses I have already received from the Scribblerati, sit down, and get started on the second draft.

Which is the reason I'm doing this blog here today. The second draft. This is where I will fix it. This is where I will smooth things out, make them a little more clear, make them fit better, make them better serve the story. This is where I will determine the story, to be honest. I'm sure I will lose characters, I'm sure I will combine some as well. I'll move some to the forefront and some to the background. I will cut scenes and I will add others. The first draft just provides the frame work, the shape, the big block of stone. The second draft is all about the shaping, the chiseling off of the unnecessary bits, of turning that big block of stone into a beautiful statue... or at least, a statue.

And here's the little guiding light. Here is something to see by in that word-crammed darkness, a map to guide my way, to guide your way in your own work. It is filled with things to think about and things to remember. Print it out. Tack it to you wall. Learn it, love it, live it.

It's Pixar's 22 rules of storytelling.

That's a bunch of basic true-isms there, kids. Think what you will of Pixar (although as a hint... The correct way to think of them is that they're awesome. Don't think so? You're wrong.), regardless of how you may feel about them and their films, as a writer, it's important to know that this list is right. It's a good tool. Sure, y'know, maybe don't worry about it so much at first, but later... like I said, in the second draft? Keep it close, because the path through the second draft can be darker and meaner and more discouraging than the last time, so it's good to have a map.

Keep writing,

Good luck,

Jon

Page 99 or What can one page tell you?

While at Uncle Hugo’s last weekend with Jon Hansen, he told me about the book he was reading, “The Forever War.”

“How is it?” I asked.

He handed a copy to me off the shelf. Duh. We were standing right in front of it. I did what I do with any book I’m considering. I opened and started reading. In this case, it was page 1, and this was the line:

"Today we're going to show you eight silent ways to kill a man."

That’s a damn good line, I thought. I’d buy that book. (Fortunately Jon has agreed to lend me his copy when he’s done.)

So apparently, when book shopping, I don’t really give most books a big chance. I don’t want to read a hundred pages to decide if it’s a good book or not (I know many people who do). But—if the line or paragraph gets my attention, if the writing is so good I want to turn the page and see what happens next—I might purchase the book. If not, the book goes back on the shelf. 

This made me wonder about my writing—and I’ll ask you writer-types the same questions. So what happens when you pick up your work and open to any page and read any line or paragraph? Do you like what you find and want to keep reading? Will your readers?

For me and my own work, it depends on the page. I sometimes am surprised and think, “Gee, that’s good. Where did that even come from?” Other times I want to put my own work back on the shelf (but I can’t. It means back to the writing desk).

And then of course, there is always this site: http://page99test.com

It’s based around this saying:

“Open the book to page ninety-nine, and the quality of the whole will be revealed to you.”

~Ford Madox Ford

It’s an interesting idea. Check it out. If you create an account, you can read other people’s page 99 from their books (mostly unpublished)—or upload your own page 99 and get feedback. I’ve gone to it a few times, to check out what other writer’s have posted there. After reading each sample you can give feedback, most importantly, about whether or not you’d buy the book, or turn to the next page. I might be a tough grader, but for most of the samples I read on my last visit to page99test.com I wouldn’t turn to the next page or buy the book in 9 times out of 10. Why?

In some cases it was “thick text” (one unrelenting descriptive paragraph filling the entire page), unrealistic or forced dialogue, telling vs. showing, unlikeable characters, characters who are doing nothing, great descriptions with no true character motivation, and so on. Or in other words, not great writing.

It’s not easy being a writer, but it’s also not easy being a reader. We’re all busy people, and if I (the reader) am going to take the time to read your stuff, you’d better be good, and you’d better be entertaining, and your writing has to be alive on the page, every single page. It’s got to be poetic, or funny, or scary, or (pick your favorite emotion), or contain likeable characters and an actual story. Or we’re not turning the page, and we’re not buying your book. And as the author, I think that stinks. But I also know that’s the name of the game. Why do you think I spend all this time editing and revising?

For fun I decided to post page 99 of my unpublished book BLACKHEART here:

http://www.page99test.com/read-my-page/1751

Please feel free to check it out. Leave feedback if you’d like. Check out other authors on the site, or even post your own page 99 if you are searching for feedback. Again, you’ll need an account to do this. There are ground rules for the page99test.com site, so read them carefully if you do set up your own account.

I debated about also putting up page 99 of my new book-in-progress, SUNLIGHT. But, it’s too new, still a first draft. I haven’t even entirely settled on which page will actually be page 99. But, I did look over that page in my rough manuscript, and it made me realize this: to make this page in my book work, to make it really stand out, sing, carry the story, I’ve got more work to do. 

Back to writing.

Happy 4^th of July!

Mark

@manowords

Cutting Characters

A poem by Austin Kleon, author of Newspaper Blackout. (The text reads: so/they look/as they did when I was 10/the Old King/and his queen/ my parents/ The size of/Egyptian/ sculptures, all/ Secrets/ that/ I didn't know)

And a nice image for my past month of editing.

I've just finished cutting five characters out of Once We Were Bears in an attempt to fix a problem that had been worrying at me and that my beta-reader confirmed: many people die after the middle section, making that one and the third feel disconnected. I'm pretty sure the character-cutting hasn't solved this; any future reader may very well still feel as though characters they spent time with are just dropped. It's just that now there are are fewer named characters for whom that will be the case.

So the problem's not solved. BUT, making these cuts did shorten the middle section considerably. I'm now at about 92,000 words (down from the all-time high of about 130,000). That feels good, as I'm now closer to the upper range for a middle-grade novel.

What was interesting to me in the process of making these cuts were first, it was actually very easy to excise these characters. It always takes a long time for me to get through the whole (because I read it aloud as I edit), but I didn't have to substantially change that much. Which says to me that these characters may not have been all that central to the story in the first place. And second, I was never really in love with these folks. Mostly because I felt like I'd never really nailed down their names. There's something that happens when I've got the right name for a character. Only then do I have the character. And I just didn't have these five. So, tho' I may not have fixed the big, bad, I think the novel is more trim and fit in its present state.

RIP, Lexie, Alex, Zander. Sleep well, Mikey and Rebekah. If I find your true names in dream, I'll write you anew.

Be a little dangerous

You have no idea how badly I want to be done with To Kill the Goddess.

And I'm close. So frakking close!

But there's still work to do.

I started working on the public beta draft of To Kill the Goddess shortly after the new year. I was feeling good. I had two solid drafts of Witness It (my new novella) completed and I was ready to kick some ass and take some names.

“This should be a breeze,” I thought. “I shouldn't need more than a day or two of fine editing per chapter and the whole thing should be done in a month or so.” And for the most part, I'm on track. I'm cruising through chapters, one after another, and then…

You see, here's my problem: my thought process is really methodical. That's great when we're talking about  down and dirty low level sentence structure changes and that sort of thing. It's demanding work, but it's also kind of like climbing a steep hill; you just need to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Unfortunately, all that methodical logic only takes you so far. What do you do when the path disappears? What do you do when you come across a comment as vague and troubling as, “the argument these two characters is having feels wrong.”

Speaking very broadly, there are three basic tools that are writer needs. The first is to think logically. For example, event or action A leads to B, leads to C. The second is creative inspiration, coming up with those great ideas and twists that make for an engaging story. The third is the ability to blend the two, or maybe more appropriately, to develop the ability to sense which tool to employ at any given point in time.

My first impulse is to tackle a problem with logic. I want to reason my way out of everything. When I see “the argument between these two characters feels wrong” I immediately start looking within the argument to fix it, or to the section immediately preceding it, and when that fails I get frustrated. Part of the reason for that frustration is that I just want to be done with this book, but the greater and more important reason is that now I'm out of my comfort zone. Logic has failed me and I need to turn to that other tool, to creativity. I need a burst of inspiration to pull me out of the hole I've dug for myself.

Those situations are always a challenge for me because I have to go against my nature. I can't tackle the problem head-on. I have to free my thoughts from that rational part of my mind that wants to grab hold of and fix everything. I have to set aside expectation and want.

Because sometimes there is no straight path to the top of the hill. Because sometimes you have to let go and be … a little dangerous.

When Do You Know It's Time To Move On?

I have lost track of the number of full revisions Once We Were Bears has gone through. Which is to say it has been uncountably many.

One of my New Year's Resolutions was to "move Beryl into the world." I'm quoting from the fragments of intentions I developed last January when I took advantage of a generous offer from my massage therapist: a free, New Year's yoga session for her clients. Some wicked challenging poses, a variety of thoughts on values, goals, and courage, and then space and silence and time to write.

In that stillness an image came to me: blackbirds flying.

I'm getting close to letting Beryl take flight, but I'm still holding on, fiddling with the small stuff before sending her out to Beta Readers. How small? Well, let's just leave it at the fact that I'm currently running a search for the word of. Yes. OF. (I use it a lot, and sometimes the line works better without it.) But seriously? Of?

So, yeah, I suppose it's about time for those birds to fly.

And what better time for blackbirds and endings and moving on than autumn?

-----

The opening image is the paper cut art of Nikki McClure, whose calendar I buy every year for myself and those close friends and family unable to make monthly use my bathroom in order to see the beauty she creates with a piece of paper and an X-acto knife.

Before and After: A Mirror into the Editing Mind

A few posts ago, I blogged about editing my WIP down to a more reasonable size. This time, I thought I'd give an example of my cutting, with line notes. A bit of background: Beryl (my bear in girls' clothing) has been posing as a student at Wood's Hall to gather information on humankind. She's found out, in a manner of speaking: one of her favorite humans, Meridel, the school librarian, realizes that Beryl thinks she's a bear and commits her. Facing an extended stay in a Psych Ward, Beryl calls her slice-of-weather guardian, Auntie Claire, to help her escape. Giant tornado! The hospital, town, and school destroyed! Months later, Beryl must deal with the emotional aftermath:

Scat it all down a well.

I know I said I wouldn’t write about it anymore. But it’s happened again. (Unnecessary) I’ve just woken up from another nightmare. Insiders’ faces, the ones I knew, who I thought were my friends, who I cannot think on without the stabbing pains. In the dreams, those faces weave in and out of images from my travels. Blood dripping from jaguar fang. Snake coiled tight. A shark whipping up the waters. I’m still drenched with sweat. Won’t be able to fall back asleep now.

I need to figure this out.

They can’t hurt me. They’re dead. I don’t have to be afraid of being trapped anymore, or worse: being killed at their hands. I know this; so why can’t I just accept it? (Blah sentence)

No, wait. Now that it’s written down, I see it. What’s not right.[what’s wrong]. (Two less words! Says the same thing!) )I’m not afraid. That’s not the taste, the scent of what I’m feeling whenever the trap snaps shut inside me. Not fear. Pain. A hurting pain, a deep, hurting pain. (Thought this sounded better with the cut - crisper) But not caused by a scrape or a bruise or a cut or a….

I’m hurting. I’m hurt--

Oh. My. Dirt Clod.

I’m sad.

That’s what it is. (Doesn't really need to be said.) I'm sad that I killed my own jailers. I’m scatting sad I had to destroy those who were going [wanted] to destroy me.

Perfect. Just Perfect. They trap me. And then they make me feel bad for what I had to do to escape? Now, doesn’t that just take the chocolate cake.(Wrong emotional tone)

Why’d they make me do it? Why did they make me care about them in the first place? Why’d they have to be all friendly and sweet and funny and silly and smart? Lexie and Meridel and Mikey and Xander and Rebeka and Alex and Mr. Begin? I liked them.

I LIKED THEM!

I cared about them and I lived with them. (What comes later says all this, but in a much more specific way, truer to Beryl's voice) We were a pack. We were a covey. And then they make me destroy them by capturing me and why oh why oh why would they do that to me?

I Hate Them!

My process has been to go through each scene. After I've cut, I read the scene aloud and find more to delete. I can tell I've been working for too long when I'm not finding much; if I come back later, I can see what I've missed. Note that I haven't cut out all the repetition: I've got three examples of riled up animals in the dream, "why oh why oh why...." Sometimes saying more is truer to the story and makes for a better telling. But often, it's just grey and deadening.

Current count: 102,623, down from 128,119.

Feel free to suggest further trimming, if you see any fluff.